Zorrack POV

  Zorrack sat beside the fire with the tip of his blade digging into the dirt below. It crackled with electricity as if it would explode at any moment. Fang lay beside him, curled against his large, muscled leg.

  He was thinking.

  Viressa would be proud. He thought to himself.

  The preparations for the attack on the Elves were well underway, and Lucivar had told them that the plan was to begin the assault tomorrow. Of course, Zorrack was excited at the prospect of getting revenge on the Elves, especially the bastard who had rendered him immobile for multiple days on end.

  But his mind was wracked with guilt.

  Suddenly, the demon stood, startling Fang and the small demon, Cedric, who was also staring deep into the burning ashes between them.

  “Zorrack?” The demon said, tilting his head curiously.

  Zorrack avoided the demon's eyes, muttering a small acknowledgment. “I’ll be back. Don’t worry about me.”

  Cedric shrugged but continued to stare at the warrior’s back as he made his way towards the vibrant jungle.

  “Should I join you?” Fang asked.

  The demon hesitated, stopping mid-stride. He turned his head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of the Warg who had been by his side day in and day out. “Fine,” Zorrack muttered.

  The Warg hopped up onto his legs, brushing his fur against Zorrack's legs as he walked beside him. Soon enough, they were out of earshot of the others, allowing the soft murmurs of conversation to fade away. The moon above was a deep amber color, the third variant, Zorrack remembered.

  It was hard for him to keep track of it all.

  “What are you thinking about?” The Warg asked, stopping suddenly to stare at the somber face of the typically confident and brash demon.

  Zorrack looked down, remembering the events that had led them to this moment.

  Before Lucivar had returned from the demon realm, it had been Zorrack’s turn to watch for Elven scouts. But, upon seeing them, the large demon had gone into a rage, stomping from the forest and massacring swaths of Elven soldiers, to Fang’s dismay. Unfortunately, a single Elf managed to escape, and it was at that moment that Zorrack realized something.

  It was his fault.

  “The boss blames himself for everything,” The demon began. “But really, none of it is his fault. If I didn’t do what I did…” Zorrack trailed off.

  “Then they would all still be alive,” Fang finished grimly.

  Zorrack whirled around, shocked, but not completely surprised.

  “What? I’m not going to sugarcoat things. We likely wouldn’t be in this predicament if you hadn’t done… that.”

  The pair sat in silence for a moment, letting the memories replay through their heads. How Zorrack felt such tremendous rage. How the Elves had crumpled under the might of the warrior’s blade. But within the hour, a swarm of soldiers had returned to Mount Boom, burning the boss's territory to ash.

  Burning their home to ash.

  “Will you tell them?” Fang questioned.

  Zorrack didn’t move, as if he were frozen in place. The weight of his actions bore down on him, in a way that even his hulking muscles were unable to handle.

  I should… He thought.

  But he couldn’t. He couldn’t face his friends. He couldn’t face the Dryads and Treants whose deaths were on his hands.

  He couldn’t face the Boss, who had done nothing but treat him with kindness.

  How would he even react? Would he be mad? Disappointed? Would he…

  Zorrack let the thought trail away, not wanting to fall into complete despair at the very thought of being abandoned by the demon known as Lucivar.

  “I… I can’t,” The warrior finally answered.

  “I figured,” Fang said knowingly, nuzzling the demon's leg with his head. “Then, what will you do?”

  Zorrack contemplated for a moment, letting the gentle breeze of the jungle air tousle his black hair in rhythmic waves. He stared at the floor as if the answer to his guilt was inscribed there. He prayed for neat, orderly words that told him what to do next.

  But the soil held no answers.

  He brought a hand up, reaching to feel his left shoulder. A small, crescent-shaped moon was branded to his skin, the mark of Lucivar’s new ability. The boss had told him that it was for their safety. That if they ever needed his help, they just needed to channel the skill, and he would teleport to their aid.

  But Zorrack saw it as a sign of weakness.

  That Lucivar didn’t, or rather, couldn’t, trust him.

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  If he had been stronger, not just in power, but in his mind, such a precaution wouldn’t be needed.

  I will prove myself. I am strong. I don’t need Lucivar to hold my hand everywhere I go…

  He thought of his friends, each with tremendous strength of their own. Zorrack could not help but compare himself to them. He had been rendered useless for multiple days, and within that time, each of his friends proved themselves useful to the Boss in some way.

  Except for me.

  Zorrack gritted his teeth, but he didn’t allow the anger welling up within him to take control.

  No.

  He would control it.

  A snarl interrupted his deep contemplation, and the duo of demon and beast turned to face it.

  A Nightstalker, glowing with the signature golden hue of the third moon.

  “Well?” Fang prompted, unbothered by the encroaching creature.

  Zorrack looked into the Warg’s eyes. His closest friend and most loyal ally. Despite the fact that Fang knew of his mistake, he had kept the secret, allowing the demon to deal with it the only way he knew how.

  “I will become stronger. Strong enough that the Boss will have no choice but to trust me. Strong enough that no being in this realm will ever threaten me or my friends ever again,” He spat with a determined fury.

  “Then that’s what I’ll do as well,” The Warg agreed happily.

  The Nightstalker leaped, charging straight toward the warrior’s exposed neck.

  A flash of lightning illuminated the jungle with electricity, and the Nightstalker fell to the ground, completely motionless.

  [Quest Completed: Warrior’s Resolve]

  [You have qualified for a Class Upgrade!]

  Zorrack momentarily contemplated whether he should ask the Boss for input on which class to choose, but he decided against it.

  He could decide for himself.

  [You have chosen the Berserker Class!]

  Viressa POV

  The female demon walked from tent to tent, greeting each of the former residents of the forest with a solemn wave. She paused beside a pair of Dryads, one being held by the other. She recognized them as the two from the trials of the Verdant Accord, but Nymphona was weakened, barely grasping at life.

  “What’s going on?” Viressa asked desperately, kneeling beside the pair.

  Sylva, the second Dryad, pursed her lips. A tear ran down from her eye. “Her Heartwood tree. They must be destroying it as we speak,” She sobbed with grief.

  Viressa’s heart sank, but she immediately jumped to offer solutions. “Perhaps that angel, Atea, I think, is her name. Maybe she can heal her?”

  The Dryad couldn’t speak, simply shaking her head with regret.

  “Well, could we grow a new tree somehow? Maybe use one of the jungle creatures—”

  “It’s alright, demon,” Nymphona interrupted weakly, allowing a thin smile to appear on her lips. “There is nothing you can do for me now.”

  A tear fell from Viressa’s eye.

  Lucivar trusted me. He made me the mayor of his territory, and I allowed this to happen. She thought to herself.

  Viressa had been trying to create relationships between the forest inhabitants and the companions of the demon Lucivar. She had even gotten Druval and Zorrack to get along, sharing an interest in tormenting the smaller Thuldur.

  But the treant was gone now, and Thuldur was reduced to tears.

  She had taken it upon herself to act as a liaison between people, even going so far as to forge relationships with the human adventurers that Lucivar had made friends with, even though she barely trusted them.

  Viressa thought of herself as a representative of Lucivar, someone who was an extension of his kindness. The demon who had saved her, Zorrack, and Cedric was as benevolent as he was powerful. She could see that in the way he conducted himself, resorting to peace whenever possible. Viressa didn’t always agree with his methods, and secretly agreed with Zorrack’s brash tendencies at times.

  But she held a deep respect for Lucivar’s gentle soul.

  Nymphona took her last breath, then her eyes went wide. Sylva let out a cry of anguish, and Viressa stood, allowing the Dryad to grieve. She knew that there was nothing for her to offer at that moment.

  Thuldur was sitting alone, staring off into the vibrant jungle. Viressa approached quietly, then took a seat beside the living tree. His muffled cries halted for a moment as he turned to face the new presence, then they continued.

  “How are you doing?” She asked softly, patting the tree's gnarled limb with a gentle hand. The treant didn’t answer, burying his face in his hands. “I know,” she comforted, allowing the tree to continue his wails.

  They sat like that for a few minutes, the only sound escaping between the treant's sobs being the shallow breaths of the demon beside him.

  Finally, he spoke. “Why is this happening to us?”

  Viressa didn’t answer for a long time, contemplating the same exact question.

  Why us?

  It was an obvious fact of the world that demons were a naturally hated race, not just by humans, but by seemingly everyone, including the treants and dryads that they now called allies. It seemed unfair, at least, it did to Viressa. She remembered the words that Lucivar had said to the pair of Aspects that had landed in Mount Boom. How he had reasoned that they were more than what they were in their past lives.

  Then, who was I in my past life? She thought to herself.

  The sudden idea took hold of her entire being. If she knew whatever atrocities her past form had committed, would she be content with being a demon, a race hated by all? Or, would it still seem unfair to punish her conscience, which remembered nothing of her past crimes?

  What does it mean to die and be reborn? Shouldn’t a new life deserve a clean slate?

  She let the thoughts fade, instead refocusing on the sobbing treant beside her. “There isn’t a reason.” She finally said.

  “What?” Thuldur mumbled, confused.

  Viressa looked into the tree's eyes. “Or, rather, there doesn’t have to be one.”

  They sat in silence. Thuldur simply waited for her to continue.

  “Misery is an experience shared by every being, as far as I’m concerned,” Viressa began. “While what we have experienced thus far may be horrible, I guarantee that another is suffering a worse fate, somewhere out there.”

  “That doesn’t mean we need to suffer!” Thuldur exclaimed, no longer sad, but angry. “My friends are dead! Druval is dead! Ossara…”

  He stopped, tears falling in torrents. “She didn’t deserve to die.”

  I let the treant grieve for a moment, then finally replied. “No, she didn’t.”

  “Then what are you talking about!” Thuldur raged.

  Viressa placed a steady hand on the tree, exuding an air of calmness. “She chose to die. She chose to save us. She chose to save Lucivar,” the demon started. “What we choose to do… that is what makes us who we are. We may suffer, but what makes someone strong is what they do in the face of that suffering.”

  Thuldur regarded the demon with wide eyes, surprised by the words. Then, he slammed a fist on the ground, not out of anger, but with determination. “What will you choose then, demon?” He asked.

  “To fight,” Viressa replied simply. “I will fight until no one has to fight ever again.”

  [Quest Completed: The Witch’s Goal]

  [You have qualified for a Class Upgrade!]

  Viressa wasted no time in selecting her new class. She knew the answer she was looking for was just within reach.

  [You have chosen the Acolyte Class!]

  [Who are you kidding? Their only purpose is to die in battle.]